“Old Man, look at my life…I’m a lot like you are….” It’s from the 1972 Neil Young album Harvest. As a side note, I was one of the first on the Indiana University campus to have this album. We had bugged the local record store owner so much about when it was going to arrive that he sent us to the distributor in Terre Haute, Indiana to pick up his shipment. We were like heroes coming back to the store while others stood in line to buy it, and my friend and I got a free copy for our troubles. Those were the good old days, when the little things in life meant so much. One of the other songs on the vinyl disc was “Heart of Gold,” and it was if we had just picked up a load of gold, set for life.

I’m feeling remorseful today, as the “old man” came out of me last night. As I was watching The Avengers change from mild mannered beings into destructive war machines, I was feeling a similar rage inside. It was hard enough for me to concentrate on the complicated battles defining the plot, let alone handle any distractions around me. I came for a couple of hours of peace and enjoyment, but as I’ve noted many times before: your seat is only as good as those around you. (See Post #121). Always concerned that I’m crunching my popcorn too loudly, I was first annoyed at the guy next to me that had a cellophane bag of something edible. Every time he reached into it, as he did frequently, it sounded to me like old-fashioned sound effects of a crackling fire. Then, a child three seats down started to cough and continued to bark, mouth uncovered, throughout the entire movie. Like a chain reaction, the more he or she coughed, the more other people around me began to cough. As far as I could tell, the parents made no effort to stop it or take the child out in the lobby to dislodge the popcorn colonel or give the poor kid some cough syrup, a sip of water, or a lozenge. Plus, in a packed theater of reserved seats there was no place to get out of the line of fire. Instead, it persisted and I was festering in anger. An intense rage was building up inside of me like The Hulk, but I refrained from saying anything until the final tease after the credits had run. As everyone sat there staring at the lengthy list of show contributors, patiently waiting for the traditional Marvel ending, the child stopped coughing to ask “why is no one leaving?…there’s nothing to watch.” Then more coughing.

In retrospect, I should have expressed concern about the small child and calmly said to the parents, “I’m sorry your child isn’t feeling well – that’s a pretty bad cough.” However, I had gone over all of this in my head, waiting for the credits to end, wondering why anyone would bring a sick child to the theater and expose everyone to germs and constant distraction? In fact, I’m sitting here now coughing out of sympathy just thinking about it. It was like the neighbor’s dog that they left outside barking in the middle of the night as you’re trying to sleep. I thought of other inconsiderate neighbors who turned the stereo up too loud, or sat outside the bedroom window of your apartment at 2 a.m. to scream-talk and catch a smoke. Visions of stepping in dog poop on the front lawn because a careless owner neglected to pick it up danced in my head, and I wanted to yell,”Get off my lawn,” to a group of young hoodlums with no where else to go. 

When the movie ended, and all the good guys were dead, I stood up and stared at the family through my 3-D glasses and said in an angry tone, “You should take that kid to the doctor instead of the movie theater. Why ruin it for everyone else?What were you thinking?” The mother looked at me like I was an insensitive old codger that had never raised a child and the father was probably ready to hit me.  Her answer was, “he’s just a child and can’t help it that he’s sick.” I kept my mouth shut, but continued to stare at her in disbelief as they left the theater. She was disgusted with me and my angry outburst, but where is the parental responsibility? It was even a school night, not our normal Saturday “Movie Night,” so what are these kids doing out after 10 p.m.? I know it was hard to get seats for this blockbuster movie, but maybe they should have waited another week or two for a matinee?

On the way out, my wife was explaining to me the cultural significance of family togetherness, and in the process made the mistake of asking me how I liked the movie? That’s when I made my second impulsive mistake last night, ruining her enjoyable experience. It reminded me of my geezer-like handling of the Ed Sheeren concert that I also ruined. (See Post #199). I proceeded to tear apart a movie that she loved, and then realized that I was acting once again like an inconsiderate bastard. So much for spontaneity – it was more like the spontaneous combustion that came out of my old man as i was growing up!  Just as those young parents had not respected the sanctity of a quiet movie theater, I had not been supportive of my wife’s night out with me to see a film she highly anticipated. I’m sorry that I’m becoming such a crusty old man…look at my life…I’m a lot like you are, Dad.